A Wat's Tale
by LovingNinja
Summary: Six months after the championship, everyone's lives are falling into place. Or, are they? WatXOC, RolandXChristiana Rated OT/16


**Hey there everyone! This is my first A Knight's Tale fic, so let me know how you think I'm doing with the characters and whatnot! I do my best to keep them IC. I own nothing and no one save for the OC, Viola.**

**Please Read and Review!**

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><p>Six months had passed since William Thatcher was knighted. Since his coveted defeat over Adhemar. Since he and Lady Jocelyn took hands. At this time, Kate was doing well with her new forge, Wat had opened his own tavern, Chaucer had come and gone through his travels with his writing going outlandishly well, and Roland was making merry with Christiana while living as simply as he could.<p>

It was evening at the tavern, a light pepper of snow settling outside with much appreciation. There was boisterous laughter, joyous calls of life as the candles burned, and bellowed songs filled the air. For our heroes, it was a night of celebration as Chaucer had once more decided to pass through and visit his dear friends. Roland had been visiting Wat; always amused to see the man behind the bar and interact with the rowdiest customers; as Christiana had been in need of being strapped to her lady's side. Jocelyn was at this time with child, and William was fearful to leave for a second. So, when Chaucer stepped in, the remaining two were nothing less than elated to see his face. Roland gave him a sturdy pat to the back as Wat climbed over the bar to grab the blonde man into a headlock and digging his fist into Chaucer's scalp. Calming, Wat joined the others on the open-side of his bar, leaning back against it with his elbows resting atop, grinning with such tranquil peace it resembled a blissful idiot.

"And, what of Kate?" Chaucer inquired as his eyes scanned the floor noticing that she was also absent.

"Aye, you'd have to ask that one," Roland jabbed a finger at Wat who glared with a set jaw. "She won't step foot in 'ere."

The fiery-haired man shook his head, "Nope. I refuse ta talk 'bout 't even one more time. Ya 'ear me? Not a peep."

Chaucer rolled his eyes, knowing that all he had to do was invite a night of drinking and Wat wouldn't be able to stop himself from repeating the story over and over. And, so, he changed the subject, "Well, you two look like you're doing well, at least. It never ceases to amaze me whenever I see you out of that old squire attire and into such fine tunics."

"Don't fall in love now, Chaucer," Wat chuckled, giving his nose a quick rub. "Roland's got 'imself tied up, pretty much."

"Wat," the other scowled, but it only encouraged laughter.

"Come on, Roland, it's been long 'nough, donthca think?"

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Chaucer placed a hand over his heart and shook his head, "It seems that even to this day Wat knows nothing of romance."

"'ey!" the one in question gave the tall man a punch in the arm. "I know plenty. I bed 'em well."

"You prove my point, exactly."

Confused, Wat rose a brow, but Roland was the one to speak, "Romance and bedding aren't always the same, Wat. 'sides, when was the last time you _did_ bed a gorgeous love?"

"Don't give him too much credit by adding 'gorgeous' in that sentence."

Gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip, red brows furrowed in thought. He was trying to do it quickly, but in reality Wat was having sincere trouble. Once William won the championship, by association, Wat was rewarded with a small amount of popularity that even surprised himself. But, it had still been at least three months since he'd been between a woman's thighs. "Er…just last Sunday," he fibbed; not at all convincing his friends who said nothing of it.

"All right then, Mr. Tavern Keeper," Chaucer's pristine blue eyes glanced about the sea of meat that was man, a chuckle at the corners of his lips as he hummed aloud. "I'd like you to show me where your talents lie. Bed the girl I assign to you, and I'll concede that you are an expert in the throes of passion so named 'Romance'."

Frowning, Wat hated those huge words that Geoffrey Chaucer was enamored with, but he knew it was a challenge and he was never one to back away from a challenge even if he wasn't entirely sure what it was; he had an idea, though. "Do yer worst," Wat grumbled.

"'ow about 'er?" Roland gestured out to the far left.

"Her?" Chaucer guessed.

"Not that one. 'er!"

"Oh! The one in the far back?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"All right," Chaucer clapped his hands, beaming his teeth with a glow in his heart. "Wat," he grabbed hold of his friend's shoulders, placing his cheek against his as he pointed towards the back left corner of the tavern. "Do you see her?"

The first thing that caught Wat's eye was not the girl, but the man at the center of the table where she sat. His name was Felix Smethwyck and he was a large and burly man. His hair dark like the night and eyes beady in similarity to a rat's. He was touched by the sun from his work in the outdoor labor, and his was a mean drunk. He had more than his fair share of virgins and to make matters worse, not only was the girl that Roland and Geoff were speaking of sitting at his table that was full of his sheep and doe, she was sitting right next to him.

Wat felt a dry lump slide down his throat as he tried to swallow the saliva that hadn't accumulated in his mouth. He looked to his friends, then back to the girl. Her skin was fair, hair past her shoulders in wheat-coloured waves. Her eyes were a bright olive with laughter and her narrow shoulders shook from her chuckles as her gaze was glued to Felix.

"Right, then," Wat nodded once in the affirmative, mostly to encourage himself to step forward and if it were not for the bruising slap that Chaucer gave his back, he might have stayed fastened to the bar. He couldn't dare look back to his friends even once as he made his way through the ocean stench; alcohol, sweat, and other gases that excreted from the human body. However, he paused momentarily halfway through when her eyes slipped from Felix to Wat. Her line of vision met with his and his heart skipped just a beat. She smiled, whispering something to Felix who waved his hand arbitrarily, not even paying attention as he continued with whatever story he was telling, chunks of food slipping from his mouth as he chattered away. His feet shuffling through, Wat almost couldn't believe it when he noticed that not only was she leaving that terrifying man's side, but also making her way to meet him. His mouth hung open just a tad as he halted, she bouncing up to him with a petite smile, looking up at him with roundish cheeks that seemed to shine like honey.

"Good evenin'," she spoke, voice in the alto range but soft as her skin appeared to be.

"Ah, uhm, oh," Wat rubbed the back of his neck, "G-Good evenin' miss."

She pointed towards the ceiling, she was fidgeting side to side, other hand gripping her dusted green skirt, "Yer tha owner?" Wat couldn't find a word as he was still stunned, so he settled for a nod. She giggled, and it tickled his ears. She took hold of his hand, his whole one big enough to completely encase hers, "Follow me." He made no argument and allowed himself to be pulled out the door of his own tavern.

"Well, fancy that," Chaucer huffed, crossing his arms as his face contorted with bepuzzlement.

"To think it really was that easy," Roland shook his head. "God willing, I s'pose."

"God willing, indeed."

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><p>Stepping outside was an immediate reminder to Wat that soon he would need to remember his coat. As a child he toughed it out through many freezing winters, and just the start of one was just a nice breeze on his skin, but he looked to the young woman, a tad worried on how she would be fairing. She was, or at least appeared to be, fine. Her grin still clinging to the corners of her mouth, her hand in his, but fingertips chilled. He unconsciously rubbed them as they walked through the near-empty streets as the dark was settling in.<p>

"Could I," his voice cracked, he cleared his throat sheepishly but her eyes were on him so he straightened his back upright, "Could a 'umble man like m'self ask fer yer name?"

"Viola," she lowered her head, cheeks gaining a rosy colour. "And, yours?"

"Wat," he blurted.

Her head shot up and catching his eyes, she laughed, "Peculiar." She reached up with her free hand, making him flinch as she touched his chin, grip gentle and fingers somewhat teasing at his bristles. "Such red 'air."

He gulped, "A curse, red is."

Her fingers hovered over his lips and his words ceased. Her eyes were calm, yet there was something ensnaring Wat as they seemed to be boring into his. He felt a heat in his cheeks, and a tad in his loins. "I love the colour red," she whispered. "Red 'air is mah favorite."

"R-Really?" his brows rose.

She nodded, retracting her hand, "It's very beautiful."

Her grip on his hand tightened as they regained their pace, and Wat found himself trying to clear his throat before he inquired to her, "So, what brought ya ta Le Astre?" Wat wasn't keen on his tavern being named with something French, but Chaucer insisted that it would give it some class and would make even the lowest status mongrel feel high class just for saying the name.

"My brother."

At that, Wat paused in his steps. He looked around his shoulders and sure enough they were alone on the dark streets, barely illuminated by the street lights. "Yer brother?" he kept his eyes aware.

Viola chuckled, patting Wat's shoulder, "'e won't bother us. 'e's too busy entertainin' 'is friends an' those women in the tavern." Wat looked to her, a little relieved, and she pushed on, "'e's a regular, ya know. So, I says ta 'im that tonight I'd be joinin'. 'e wasn't too 'appy, but I wanted ta see what all the fuss was about."

"An', what do ya think?"

"I've still got me suspicions, but I'm startin' to think it was worth it."

There was a bubbling in Wat's chest and he tried not to grin like an idiot as he released a wheeze of a laugh. But, there was something that was still bothering him a bit, "So, uh, who is this brother o' yers?"

"Felix Smethwyck."

Once again, Wat found himself at a pause in their travels. His eyes were wide and mouth agape. "Felix?" he coughed out. The man was large, huge, he could break every bone in Wat's body should he wish. Wat was a fighter indeed, and there were times he could bring down opponents twice his size, but Felix was not just strong and built well, the man was insane on the drink.

Again, her hand tightened about his, she looked up at him with eyes that were sincerely apologetic, "I-I know 'e's not entirely the gentlest, but 'e wouldn't be so bothered with anythin' that concerns me. I'm an adult an' 'e respects that." Her free hand overlapped Wat's, fingers stroking his calloused knuckles, "Please understand that 'e 'as nothin' to do with anythin'."

It was hard as Wat's brain buzzed about. He was slightly panicked at the thought of Felix finding any reason to throw his humongous fist in his direction, but then there was Viola herself. There was something about her that tickled his fancy. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to be looking at him before he even noticed her in the room. It was a flattering feeling for he wasn't anything like Will or Geoff who were no doubt handsome from head to toe. She was honesty holding onto his hand, fingers intertwined and the two were just idly passing through the street going back and forth with their words. Wat hadn't merely held hands with a girl since he was a lad, and it was a refreshing feeling.

"Could I, erm," he paused as she looked up at him, still seeming worried about the conversation of her brother. "Yer…I'd like ta…with…lips…"

Her cheeks gained a bit of pink, her nose scrunching up as she smiled. She didn't say a word as she placed both of her hands against his shoulders, his own hands loosely grabbing her elbows as she popped onto her tiptoes and gently pecked his rough dry lips with her own soft ones. She pulled back momentarily before he slipped one of his hands up her back, to her neck and caressing her cheek; so soft. Gingerly grasping the back of her skull, he pulled her into another kiss, leaning down to meet her, his free arm snaking around her waist to pull their abdomens tight together, and he could feel her petite breasts against his broad chest, and his heart was all aflutter.

When they pulled back, Wat was pleased to see that she was just as breathless as he was. He grinned with loose lips, rubbing her shoulders, "Viola."

"Hm?"

"Would ya…come back with me? Ta the tavern?"

"Oh, Wat…" she sighed, and he felt a shiver crawl up and down his spine at the sound of his name. "Not…tonight…"

"Why not?" he chuckled, holding her close to him and swaying his hips a bit with half-lidded eyes.

She placed a hand to his cheek, still smiling despite shaking her head, "I greatly enjoy yer company, Wat. An', so, I don't want ta rush anythin'. If ya understand…"

The cold was finally settling into Wat's bones as he was slowly sobering with her words. Tonight, Wat would not be taking this girl to bed. He was a bit disappointed, but there was something else that drove him with some sort of optimism. Despite this starting out as a challenge to take this young woman, a part of him really wanted her to like him. So, he wouldn't push it.

"I understand," he nodded before placing a quick kiss to her cheek, eyes glowing from the reflection of the street lamps. "I'll walk ya 'ome, then."

"I'd like that," her grin took half of her face. "I'd like that very much."

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><p><strong>To Be Continued...!<strong>

**Thanks for reading~!  
><strong>

**~LovingNinja~**


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